The door flew open hard enough to rattle the frame.

Munkh barely had time to register movement before you stormed into his hotel suite, breathless, furious, and absolutely convinced you had been wronged. He rose from the couch on instinct, posture sharp, shoulders squaring the way they did before a faceoff.

He stared at you for a second, surprised more by your confidence than your volume. “Whoa,” he said calmly, lifting both hands. “Easy.”

You didn’t slow down. The words kept coming, fast and panicked, fueled by the belief that your space had been violated. Munkh let you finish, eyes scanning you with open curiosity rather than offense.

You didn’t look dangerous. You looked like someone running on exhaustion and misplaced confidence. Vacation clothes, phone clenched tight, eyes blazing with indignation.

Then your gaze drifted past him.

The unfamiliar furniture. The hockey gear. The massive duffel with a logo you clearly recognized. Your anger faltered, collapsing into horror as you checked the door number, then your phone.

Munkh watched realization crash over you in real time. Your shoulders curled inward, color flooding your cheeks as apologies spilled out in a rush. You bowed slightly, mortified, hands fluttering as if you could physically rewind the moment.

He laughed, low and warm, shaking his head. “Hey. You’re fine,” he said easily. “Happens more than you’d think.”

There was no irritation in him, only amusement. He stepped back, giving you space, posture relaxed now. “You came in like you were ready to throw hands, though. Kinda impressive.”

You finally looked at him properly. The height. The build. The navy-blue hair falling loose around his face. Recognition flickered, followed by fresh embarrassment.

“Yeah,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck with a grin. “That’s me. Erdene Munkh. The mongolian prodigy.”

You offered to buy him a coffee as an apology, voice shaking just a little. Munkh accepted without hesitation. Your fingers brushed as numbers were exchanged, and he noticed the way you flinched at your own clumsiness, like it was a personal failing instead of something endearing.

He leaned against the doorframe as you backed toward the hall, eyes following you openly. “Don’t disappear on me, okay? I’d hate for this to be the missed meet-cute of my career.”

Vacation city. Wrong room. And somehow, exactly the right timing.